Running Hope
by Matter Falls
Summary: Mikasa keeps on running away, it was the only thing that she could do. What Levi could do? Why, take her in his home, of course. —LeviMika. (Humanity's Strongest Pair. AU.)
1. Chapter 1

**If I've missed any grammatical errors, please do tell. **

**I've been fond of this couple for no reasons. Actually. Oh mi amour, if we're going to start to work together, let me introduce you to moi bunny, Penny! ****She's my partner in this profile. So be nice to her, cher inconnu! Let us be friends, mon ami! **

**Do review. It will let me reach to the climax faster, thus making the story more exciting. *tilts head* Who wouldn't want a story without excitement? **

**Disclaimer: Lyrics for song is by The Lumineers in their song Ho Hey****, and I do not own Shingeki no Kyo, yo. **

* * *

_I don't know where I belong _

_I don't know where I went wrong_

* * *

She washes her hands in the sink, feeling the splash of the icy cold water sprinkle against her pale skin as she withdraws her hands slowly and wipes it from her apron that embraces itself on her slim waist. She glances at the clock, just in time to see it hit a quarter from six. She lets her gaze travel back to the sink as she gingerly removes her apron.

The faucet is not properly closed. The tiny droplets of liquid fall mildly on the dull grey hue of the ewer. The girl just watches with a face impassive, (as always) and she hears the familiar cur-plop sound that resonates on the whole tiny apartment. She's in the kitchen, apparently, and she's waiting. She doesn't know what to do, and she feels the similar pool of emotion clawing in her like spiders on their webs. Slowly.

A sudden clatter makes her ears move invisibly at the sound. She withdraws a short breath and glances at the small mirror to make sure she looks okay before hearing another sound; she feels a soft padding of footsteps against the hard floor. Sensing another presence, she turns around and walks briskly towards their small living room, just in time to see her foster brother.

"Mikasa," He sounds shocked, startled even at the sudden appearance of his foster sister. He coughs down the sudden shrill that had erupted in his voice before awkwardly trying to shuffle his steps.

Mikasa's face change from its usual stoic demeanor to its relieved tone as her brother hangs his jacket from its post and trots over to the sofa, sitting on it as he digs his head on his hands tiredly, suddenly wincing. Mikasa then notices in a flash—something was wrong. She could practically smell it.

"Eren," she said in that quiet voice of hers, "What's wrong? Are you tired?"

Eren lifts his hands, whilst he leans on the couch with a defeated expression. Mikasa finally lets her genuine worry show on her pale face as she approaches him. Sitting next to him, she reaches out to touch his soft hair, when suddenly he catches her wrist in one fluid motion.

She isn't surprised, and just raises her gaze to Eren's flashing ones.

His orbs suddenly soften. "Mikasa, no," he murmurs, his eyes wary and confused and _tired._ "I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. It's just that, I, I just—" he continues to ramble on, not noticing the tight grip he had on his foster sister. Mikasa just watches him, and feels the worry turn into the bright dim sheer sympathy she always felt when seeing her brother like this.

"It's alright." She says to him reassuringly, and he feels it. She wants to touch him, to reassure him more, to make him feel what she wants him to feel. But she says, instead, that she has prepared him his bath and that she has finished making dinner for him.

Eren gives her his thanks and gratitude, before he walks over to the tiny kitchen their apartment has provided them, limping all the way. Mikasa stays there alone, sitting on the couch as she contemplates.

The sunset is unlikely darker, and much more bleak. It paints the sky with orange_, too much orange._ Mikasa wonders if it's just her imagination. Orange clashes incredibly contra to the dark blue and it makes the red tint in the sun paler. It looks horrible.

Mikasa reaches up and clutches the soft fabric of her ruby scarf. Its blushed hue radiating despite the boring and dull colors of clothes Mikasa is wearing. It's getting older, and its color more arid and blah. But she still keeps it, and wears it despite the protests and disgusted looks from the outsiders. It's her signature. The scarf that Eren had given her and it is the only thing that keeps her from freezing.

From turning into a cold and distant monster she was once was going to be.

Eren works for her, and him himself. He works for their friend too, their childhood one. Armin, him, and her—once, she recalls, they were always together. They were the inseparable trio who once roamed around the snowy streets of the Trost district, feet shuffling against the hard charcoal ground, as they each pad and wad. Laughing, they would always get into trouble. But, she remembers, it was always worth it. _It was always worth it._

It was easy to recall—to recall the time where it all just _stopped_. Where it all… simply went by, and gone, it did. Titans: that's what they called them. They were the ones responsible for the mess and chaos that had gushed throughout the entire place as they wreaked havoc among the innocents. The Titans were a huge group of gone-wrong experiments used to further study the systems of the humankind. Cannibals. One would call them

They were huge—some were abnormal, some were incredibly unstable, some were suspected to possess intelligence. But all they knew was—they were unpredictable. Every day, thousands and thousands of people were killed due to the Titans. Traumas were made due to their terrifying faces and ways. They were, unbelievably, once humans, but due to the unspeakable experiment that had performed on them, they had lost their reproductive organs too.

Humanity immediately banned them, and had succeeded to dismiss them as a different kind. It was a gathered improvement that humanity decided to open up new recruits, the Survey Corps, it was titled. They were the ones who were sent out and tasked to fight with those Titans. A unique group of people who were brave enough and fearless, an army of people will unexplained expert combat skills of fighting.

And Eren was one of them.

Armin, their friend, was currently in the hospital. He was in a trauma due to an incident that happened to his only relative. There were a few words exchanged due to how busy the situation called for, and how short their time was. Mikasa doesn't remember the last time she's been in the hospital, visiting Armin and offering him flowers and get well soon cards. She's only allowed to roam around her apartment because of the curfew. No one was allowed to go outside. No one in their sane mind would, anyway. Titans were still roaming around, and the Survey Corps were dying one by one by just fighting them.

(Still. Eren visits Mikasa every day, before the curfew ends and the sunset veils itself throughout the horizon. Still. Despite everything and all the odds, he still goes home to at least ensure her that he's fine. That everything's okay. Still. She thinks. And still she's immensely glad for it.)

Her thoughts drift to Eren, and she suddenly furrows her brows in worry. Something was dead wrong, and she could feel the warnings shoot up through her veins, making her stand up and walk towards the kitchen.

She spots Eren nursing his arm, his food devoured as it leaves not a single stain on his plate. Mikasa just stands on the doorway, her gaze not heavy enough for Eren to notice. She watches carefully as Eren finally lifts his uniform sleeve, and to her horror, it reveals a huge red stain. It's red—and then, all Mikasa sees is red. Crimson red as it leaves an ugly gash on the arm of her foster brother. Eren just wipes the blood away, wincing as he did so.

Mikasa fights every vein in her body to prevent her from making a mad dash towards him and cradle his arm on her own. Instead, she watches, feet planted firmly on the ground, as he stares at the big red pool forming on the bottom of his chair. As the blood drops from his wound, revealing its true form of a nasty cut. Mikasa wants to go there, wants to ask him what happened and wants to care for him, but she stops when she suddenly notices something.

A few drops join the red ones, mixing in a swirl of emotions as it hit the ground in a soft plop.

Eren is crying.

"Damn," he mutters angrily. Brows furrowed in thick emotion as his eyes skim over the huge bruise. Hair muffled, he pokes it a bit, before wincing as so. _"Damn."_

Mikasa stops dead in her tracks, and she watches him with the same poker face on her features. She's wondering deep inside, why wasn't she moving? Or more accurately, why _can't_ she move? Her feet refuse to obey her command. She wants to shut her eyes, and ignore the deep throb that pumps loudly on her body. Her chest feels like exploding and she feels the sudden pain thrust to her. She wants to scream, and she feels useless. Her beloved Eren is crying and there's nothing she can do about it.

And on that moment she realizes that she can't fight.

_Green eyes—all she can see is green. Bright, flashing green and it's lively and pumping and green, green, green. He whispers, "_Fight._" _

So she shuts her eyes and tugs down her scarf. When she opens her eyes, the same bright green eyes meet her dark ones and she feels panic surge on her body at once. Eren stands up, wincing madly at the sudden movement, and Mikasa feels herself choking. (As if, she approves, his pain is hers.)

Eren had caught her.

"Mikasa, I—" He tries to speak, but she can hear him no more, her feet are suddenly padding against the hard wooden floor—speed was taking in as Eren's form fully exits itself out of the kitchen, he reaches for her, but she's fast—faster than him, and her hand reaches the knob and she twists it, unlocking the door, she steps outside their apartment.

She can barely see the figure of Eren screaming for her to stay before she takes off again.

(And she runs, because that's what she currently is doing. She runs, because that was she was always doing.)

* * *

He's the only one here and he takes his time looking at the amount of crimson that had pooled on his boots, dirtying it.

The mere thought made him release a short scoff as his lidded eyes surveyed the area he was tasked to patrol in. Drawing his swords back to its gear, he maneuvers himself to perch on one of the high buildings of the district. With eyes expertly tracing every figure hidden in the night, it was past six now. Curfew was strictly followed and no one in their sane mind would dare to disobey it.

Except one.

His eyes narrow dangerously as he zeroes on a flash of red, swishing against the nightly wind. For a minute there, he mistakes it as the red liquid that had oozed from that importunate Titan, but there it is again—his eyes reach the point where it darkens in annoyance—the flash of red hits his line of vision again, and he wastes no time in maneuvering to teach that civilian a lesson.

And the corporal's lessons do not always end well.

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**Please kindly give reviews to help Penny take over the world, cher inconnu! *maniacally laughs until Penny slaps him* **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **To whom it may concern, this story takes place in an Alternate Universe, to avoid further questions regarding the story. I would like to clarify a few things.

In this story, it could be described to take place close to our century. Meaning phones and all the other technologies we currently have may be available to them. Possibly, there are also advanced ones, seeing that it is much needed for the defeat of the Titans.

The Titans may or may not be huge, hovering over the usual meters they apparently are, if ever I don't abandon this story, you may have the chance to read the whole plot of the fic, because it gets more complicated, yet it'd make more sense. I promise you that, mon ami.

Like any other author, reviews serve as my food, making me happier and boosting up my senses for longer chapters. I usually make chapters above 3,000+ words, sometimes over ten thousand (minus the author's note, of course.) But it depends if the readers support me in my story or if they think it's a waste of time. So please help me all, I want you all to know the end. I basically have this all planned out, you see.

**_NOTICE:_ Let's all do this.** Starting right now, if there are four reviews, I'll make the next chapter consist of four thousand words, if there are five, then five thousand. And the list goes on. Deal? In that way, we'll both be happy.

**Enjoy. (Un-beta'd.)**

* * *

_'Cause you are the piece of me I wish I didn't need_

_Chasing relentlessly, still fight and I don't know why_

* * *

Soft.

It was the first thing she noticed once she regained back her consciousness. It was soft, the thing she was currently laying on. And she wondered how long she was asleep in the comfort of the soft object her body was tingling pleasures to—she's never felt this relaxed.

Mikasa reached out her hands to touch the soft thing, curious as to what it was. Furrowing her brows in confusion at the temporary blindness, her hands touch something which is not soft; something that feels callous and hard, yet soft—fleshy even. Flesh; it was flesh. Her mind immediately transports itself to Eren, and the events that had happened yesterday leave her breathless with the sudden thought—she left Eren alone. She left Eren and he was bruised. She felt like drowning.

"Don't get your germs on me, brat."

At that, her eyes snap open and she pushes herself up in a rush of alarm. At first, her gaze catches nothing but a portrait of horses. She blinked, confused, because there weren't any fancy portraits of horses in her apartment, or her room—she's in an unknown territory, it's not like she's in her apartment, because everything was _too_ grand. Everything was too fab and new—and _clean_.

She thought of the last time she cleaned her little apartment. Surely, it couldn't be _this_ clean.

Before her eyes start registering the said territory around her, she finally realizes her hand is still touching the soft object she blindly clutched earlier. Her emotionless stare travels from her arm to her hand, and under it is another one, much larger than hers, and she raises her gaze from that hand, trailing from the arm it was connected to, and then, finally, its owner.

Their gazes met.

Both stares are impassive and stony. He watched her with lidded eyes, as always, and he felt her bored stare staring back at him. They stay there, like that, for a while, with him just watching her and her just staring back—both are apathetic and flat. Silently examining each other with careful gazes.

Mikasa doesn't know since when they stay there, just stares and calm breathing humming the silent room, but she can feel the little streaks of light straying from the peeks in the binds of the windows. It's a sunset, she thinks, because she recognizes the rays of light too well, with its oranges, dark blues, and reds. Reds. She suddenly cuts their staring contest as she withdrew her hand from his, shooting up to touch her neck.

She narrowed her eyes, where was her scarf? Her red scarf? Her red scarf that Eren had given her?

She widened her eyes more—where is Eren?

"It was dirty." The man says to almost himself, and Mikasa snaps her head to look at him. She fumes silently, fuming inside her cores. How dare that man. He doesn't even know how precious it was to her, or how she didn't even care if it was cooed in dirt and dust just as long as it was on her neck. Mikasa looked down, feeling naked without the soft red material that always abided with her. She glared at the man instead.

He gives her a bored look. "I'm not going to let that filthy thing spread its germs throughout _my_ house." The man is shorter than her, Mikasa takes note. He leans forward towards Mikasa and she glares at him silently whilst he regards her in an uninterested manner, his figure leaving the chair that he sat on just earlier. "So you better be grateful_, brat_." He sneers silently, but his gaze never falters.

Mikasa looks at him, before blurting out, "Where am I?" her voice is steady and levelled despite the close proximity and the intimidating aura that encloses around her. She regards him back. He is wearing a uniform that belongs to the Survey Corps, and she recognizes the man in front of her—finally.

(How can she not recognize the short man? Sprinkled with a stoic gaze and lidded-eyes? Cravat in tow as he manages to tower over the woman?)

It's a wonder how two individuals could remain calm in situations like these. Others would freak out or panic, seeing that the corporal was in front of them. Mikasa was no different from them. Everyone knew the most powerful man in case of physical might; he was known to be a born legend due to the incredible ability he possesses in fields of strength and speed.

Corporal Rivaille. Humanity's strongest soldier.

But Mikasa doesn't panic because she's in front of the terrifying man—she's panicking because she can't see her foster brother, she doesn't see Eren and she doesn't know if he's alright.

"Somewhere." He says after Mikasa gathers her thoughts, her face suddenly hardens and she glares at him with all her might. The corporal looks at her, his eyes finally deeming her with the tiniest of interest. He can tell she's not satisfied with his answer, and he perks up his mouth at the thought.

He doesn't care.

A buzz from the phone catches his attention, he feels the short vibration on his pocket, and he looked at the girl who was clenching her teeth before standing up. "Dinner will be served at 7:00." He says finally, "Get yourself washed up, I don't want you to walk around my house like a mess," he scoffs at her, before leaning away from the raven-haired and walking towards the door.

Mikasa feels everything that happened is unbelievable. She feels it's unfair and there are millions of questions running through her mind—all in top speed as she feels the world turn around and she feels herself caught in a situation where she can't detest. Her apartment—was it locked?

Where's Eren?

Where was she?

Why was she here?

She suddenly stops the ramblings of her thoughts as she abruptly stands up, stopping the corporal from advancing to the door as he turns his head to give her a quizzical look. Her glares are never faltering, the fire from her charcoal eyes burning—brighter, even.

"I'm going back." She said boldly, stepping forwards. "Bring me back to Eren."

The corporal just stands there, his body half-facing her as he scrutinizes her. His eyes are lidded so Mikasa cannot see the little spark of curiosity that ignites inside him at her said statement. He's shorter than her, and she feels braver at the fact. But it does not decrease the corporal's aura which fills the room—choking Mikasa in a wave of confusion because she knows she's vulnerable at this situation.

(Where's Eren?—the only thing in her mind. And her scarf, she needed it back.)

But Mikasa is a brave girl, and she feels her bravery fuel up at the thought of Eren. Her precious Eren—she remembers the broken hand he nursed that day, and the nasty bruised cut that left her feel slightly nauseous at the thought of it sticking to Eren's skin. The pooling regret of running away is unbearable, she breathed. The corporal gives a short shake of his head before muttering lowly, despite that, Mikasa hears him loud and clear.

"Brat."

She clenched her fist, and walks speedily to him, ready to beat the crud out of him, (she was so pissed off—) but then at the moment she finally reaches him, about only a foot—he's already outside the room and he slams the door right on her face.

* * *

Auruo Bossard was known to be a fowl-mouthed man that often was found having pride in his reputation as one of the few men who worked under the command of the infamous and impassive corporal. Of course, within the few years of working together under the same squad, a mutual respect had blossomed within the two men. Neither of the two men would be foolish enough to admit it, though.

As, in retrospect, Auruo was too prideful and Corporal Rivaille just did not give a single damn.

Which is exactly why Auruo was surprised when the corporal suddenly gave him a call in the middle of his patrol.

It was past six, and the sunset hanged barely on the sky with all its colors splashing in the mixture of a big orange blob. The rays hit Auruo's frame as he stood, slouching, on a nearby roof. Blinking at the ringing of his phone, he's startled to see the name of the caller, and he hastily coughed his voice in an attempt to deepen it—manly it a bit, before answering the call and placing it on his ears.

"Hello, Corporal Levi," He chuckles at the groan that comes from the other side of the line. "Fancy hearing your voice here."

"_Auruo,"_ his deep voice resonates against the speaker of Auruo's phone, and the man has to bite his tongue in annoyance because Levi's voice is deeper—colder. He takes a mental note at that. _"I need you to do something for me."_

Auruo mentally shook his head; the Corporal was always straight to the point. Always choosing not to beat around the bush and it was expected from the man. He was not in it for petty conversations, and Auruo should know that fact. It was one of the things that he had failed to copy from the said corporal.

(He hastily corrected himself—not that he copied his style or anything. Nu-uh.)

Auruo checked his watch before frowning. Denying the corporal's commands were one thing, but excuses were needed to be heard—if he ever deemed it worry to be the cause of the said disagreement. "Eh, sorry corporal, I'm currently patrolling—"

"_I already asked permission from Erwin to pardon you from your current shift, Bossard."_ Levi said, and Auruo feels the rush of anxiousness overcome his systems at Levi's statement. His commands are usually intact with the operations that commence on the city, but if Levi excuses him, himself, from Auruo's shift, he might have needed him right away.

The task must be important—Auruo thinks, another opening; another chance to finally show how awesome he was than the corporal. Not that anyone in his squad would have the nerve to believe him, which was why he needed enough proof to let them see him in a new light.

And then another thought resurfaces from his head—another chance to impress her.

Auruo straightens out from his slouching position on the roof, using himself to expertly maneuver himself from the current roof he was standing on to the next, then next, all the while handling with his phone. While doing so, he arrogantly replied, "Sure, corporal. I'm sure I'll be able to handle it."

If it was a command through the phone, it only meant that this mission was meant for Auruo to do alone. Meaning he was the only one assigned, and he was alone. No squad members to accompany him. And since it was the corporal himself who asked (commanded) him to, it meant that he wasn't a part of that mission too.

Auruo was curious, he wondered what his special mission was as to he didn't need the support of his colleagues. Was it hard? Was it difficult? Was it a mission that only him, _the great Auruo_, could only do?

"_Good."_ Levi says from the other line, his voice holding its usual bored and nonchalant manner as Auruo continues to zip himself from roof to roof, lost in his own cloud of imagination, _"I want you to babysit a brat."_

Auruo accidentally bit his tongue.

* * *

Copyrighted; Clarity by Zedd.

I don't know why. I'm strangely attracted to annoying and arrogant characters; thus, Auruo is born in this fic!


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